Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.
A/N: Screaming HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the fabulous Adenei, a wonderful writer, beta, and friend. Hope you enjoy this Romione Muggle AU meet-cute featuring some baking!
Life is What You Bake It
Muggle AU
Happy birthday, Adenei!
Hermione Granger approaches baking as a way of meditating through life. She tends to go into her own little world, whisking and measuring the ingredients in her head like she's creating the perfect potion.
Early mornings always bring the excitement of a new day, and the air is sticky with the scent of rising yeast, making Hermione's stomach rumble with hunger.
Always eager to find ways to display her talent, it made sense for her to open her own bakery three years ago. After transforming a small, all white cottage into a clean and well-maintained shop, she decorated the interior with marbled tables with glistening white lights hanging from the ceiling. A long rectangular window allows in natural light and the perfect view for her to see the village shoppers strolling down the street.
She often rises earlier than the sun to prepare her pastries made fresh daily, each one crafted from scratch and inspired by desserts from her childhood. She started looking at recipes from a fairly young age, quickly deciding that she'd like to sell happiness over a counter one day.
Hermione enjoys baking almost as much as reading, and has her family cookbook tucked away on the shelf with notes upon notes scribbled in the margins. She sticks to her recipes and doesn't often venture into the unknown, for she's always appreciated completing tasks in an orderly fashion and learning how to craft the perfect flavor combinations.
Running through her to-do list, she's thrilled to introduce the featured treats for the day — lemon bars with an all butter shortbread crust topped with lemon curd and dusted with sugar, as well as slices of fluffy vanilla cake soaked in champagne and filled with fresh raspberries and homemade raspberry preserves. Although these two desserts have been staples in her shop since she's opened, Hermione still relishes the feedback from her customers so that she can continuously improve and make sure that her recipes are free from errors.
With the opening fast approaching, she's ready to get to work with her flour and butter to finish off another three-tiered cake featuring one more flavor of the week: chocolate espresso coated in a Belgian chocolate ganache between the layers and topped with an espresso buttercream.
After acquiring all of the necessary ingredients, she ties the apron in a knot around her waist and gets to baking, taking up her position with so much joy. Mixing flour is a stress-reliever for her, and she works with precision and delicacy to assure that the cake comes out exactly as she has planned.
Hermione makes very few mistakes, and the times when she does add just a tad too much flour or accidentally uses baking soda instead of baking powder have the ability to unravel her for the rest of her day. Therefore, she sticks to her recipes so as not to mix up ingredients and always taste tests her batter before putting it in the oven.
Next, add the eggs.
Just as she's pulling the carton out of the fridge, the bell chimes on the door, signaling a guest entering the shop.
"Welcome, how may I-"
The words fade from her mouth as she takes in the appearance of a tall man with fiery red hair and the most striking blue eyes she's ever seen. A crooked smile envelops his face, and the stomach-flipping action almost makes her drop the eggs in her hands onto the floor.
"Hello there."
"H-hello." The stammering of her words matches the stammering in her heart.
"May I?" He gestures to the display case and Hermione responds with a single silent nod, too dazed by his presence to add any words.
As he crouches down to look at the sweets, she turns away in an attempt to compose herself. Okay, Hermione, relax. He's just a customer.
"I reckon I'd like to try one of everything!"
Brushing away specs of flour from her apron, Hermione pivots around while plastering an assured smile to her face. "Really? That's excellent! Let me box it all up for you."
"So…I'm new to the village. Is this the best place to satisfy my sweet tooth?"
Hermione bites down on her lip to contain her grin while delicately tying a silver foil satin ribbon around a cupcake box. "I'm normally not one to boast, but yes, I believe so."
"Hm." He cocks his head at her, and she can feel her cheeks rising in temperature. "Well, m'glad I happened to walk into your shop, Miss…"
The man gives her an expectant look and she blurts out, "Hermione Granger. Just Hermione."
A wide grin stretches across his face as he opens one of the boxes and pops a lemon bar into his mouth. While chewing on the sweet treat, he mumbles, "Well, just Hermione. Not only does it look great, it tastes great too!"
Happiness swirls through her veins from his compliment, even if she's slightly off-put by his fast ability to destroy the ribbon she had just tied into a neat bow and talk through a mouthful of food. "Well, I was hoping so! Are you a baker? Mr…"
"Ron Weasley. Just Ron." The man chuckles before lifting up one of his shoulders. "I bake a little. What do I owe you?"
"You know what? It's on me. As long as you promise to return again soon?"
Hermione isn't quite sure where that flirtatious invitation comes from, but as always she holds her head high, maintaining the clear confidence she's had from a young age. Ron stares at her for an extended moment with an unreadable expression on his face then shakes his head.
"I have no doubt I'll be seeing you around. A pleasure to meet you, Hermione Granger."
Ron disappears out the door, letting the aroma waft out into the street as more customers flood in.
Hermione sucks in a large gulp of air while placing a hand over her heart in an attempt to steady its rapid beating before tending to the first round of curious patrons for the day. Feeling the warmth on her cheeks, she fans her face before bending down to check the oven, making the startling realization that she hadn't even turned it on.
She's fast becoming aware that her kitchen isn't the only thing she's attracted to.
The afternoon falls into an unusual slump, the typical lunchtime rush ending earlier than anticipated.
"Hm."
"What's wrong?" Her best friend and assistant manager of the bakery, Lavender Brown, sidles up next to her carrying a plate of scones to restock the display case.
"Well, I don't know. I guess I was just expecting — do you hear something?"
Not only has a new shop opened up across the street, but it has a queue snaking around the block. Hermione pushes her nose up against the glass window pane to get a better view, gasping in shock as she reads the storefront sign. Weasley's Burrow of Desserts.
Weasley. That weasel.
"You've got to be joking!" With an aggravated growl, Hermione snatches her coat and swings the door open, not even bothering to respond when Lavender asks where she's going.
A loud car horn sounds as she crosses the street, paying no mind to oncoming traffic while keeping her eyes set on finding the traitorous man who had the audacity to scope out her bakery earlier that morning. And she gave him her desserts for free!
"Hey, that's not fair!" Someone calls out when she bypasses the queue entirely and marches right into the new shop.
Hermione is met with vibrant shades of orange and red on the freshly painted walls, two colors that clash together but somehow still manage to provide a cheerful energy that makes a person feel right at home, as annoying as that sentiment is to her.
Her eyes sweep across the room, locating the display counter with piqued interest. The first bakery item she notices are orange cream cupcakes with rich fondant toppings — honestly, who uses fondant? Don't they know that if too much is added it tastes downright awful?
Another tray piled high with turtle cheesecake bars captures her attention, and the description on the tag makes her cringe, as if she's just been given the whole recipe without having earned it — bars made with a brownie crust, cream cheese filling, drizzled in homemade caramel and a sprinkle of chopped pecans on top.
"I see you've found me, Hermione Granger."
Oh, she wants to wipe the smirk off Ron Weasley's face more than anything.
Disregarding any formalities, Hermione launches into her diatribe. "You neglected to mention while you were perusing around my shop — which is right across the street — that you not only bake more than a little but you've also decided to encroach on my customers!"
"I didn't realize you owned the village." An amusing glint in his eyes distracts her, caught up yet again in that familiar shade of blue-
No. Stop it. Shaking away any unwanted feelings, she stumbles over her words. "I-I don't. It's just that I've been the only bakery on this street for the last few years."
"Well, now you're not."
Hermione's jaw almost drops to the floor by the brash nature of his retort.
The nerve of this man.
She points an accusatory finger in his direction. "You were spying on me."
"Was not."
"You were! You came into my shop all charming-like-"
"You think I'm charming?" He lends forward with his elbows resting on the glass display case with a massive grin on his face.
"I didn't say that you were charming, just that you were trying to be."
"Uh huh." The tone of his voice indicates that he remains unconvinced. "Can I get you anything? On me, 'course. I must return the favor."
Her eyes land on a set of butterscotch macarons, coated in a caramel-colored almond shell filled with ganache and cream then topped with a dusting of gold glitter — glitter! She carefully observes the decoration on the carrot cake displayed next to the macarons and she fights the urge to let him know that his cake to icing ratio is off.
"No need to answer, I've already boxed up a few of my favorites." Ron slides a simple white box in her direction. Although her open mouth is poised to tell him off, he beats her to it. "Here ya go! Hope to see you around, Hermione. I've got to check in with my customers! Loads of 'em this morning."
With a final wink he saunters off, leaving Hermione shell-shocked and wondering how he managed to have the final word in this exchange.
–
"Everything alright?"
Hermione's feet are loud against the linoleum floor as she stomps to the kitchen in the back of her bakery, Lavender following her in at a cautious distance.
"I don't know how anybody can tolerate being around him!" Hermione snarls, throwing herself onto a stool at the counter before blowing a stray curl out of her eyes.
"Who?"
"That-that man who disguised himself as a customer this morning! Did you know he owns the new bakery across the street? Yeah, I imagine he was scoping out the competition."
"I've never seen you so passionate about a man in all of your life…" Lavender quips, plopping down with eager intention onto the seat next to her.
"Passionate? Ha! More like disgusted."
"Keep telling yourself that."
Hermione harrumphs, placing her chin in her hand. She had such high hopes for today and is disgruntled to realize that her cheerful spirit is quickly dwindling. Her eyes shift over to the little white box on the counter, and she can't help but snatch it up and take a bite out of the macaron inside, her mouth positively watering from its crunchy outer shell that morphs into a deliciously creamy sweet from the filling.
"Bugger. They're delicious."
"You know, having another bakery nearby might not be such a bad thing." Lavender rests a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It doesn't have to be a competition, Hermione."
Hermione narrows her eyes to slits, the wheels already turning in her head with ideas to make her bakery display bigger and better than ever. "Oh, but it does."
Although she's looking forward to pushing any further thoughts about Ron Weasley and his bakery from her mind, he apparently has a different plan and shows back up in her shop just before closing.
"I think we should collaborate."
Hermione's hand on the flannel covering the counter freezes mid-cleaning. "I'm sorry?"
"Come over to my shop and bake with me tomorrow," Ron offers, taking timid steps into the shop. "And maybe I'll share my Mum's secret for making those butterscotch macarons."
"Bake with you?" Hermione dismisses his verbal request with a scoff. "I can't possibly be seen fraternizing with the enemy!"
"The enemy?" If he's offended at all by her response, he doesn't show it, instead choosing to wiggle his eyebrows. "I can see that you're warming up to my charm."
"I thought I told you that you weren't charming?"
"Well, I spoke to your assistant, Lavender, earlier and she seems to believe that you thoroughly enjoyed my macarons."
Hermione grits her teeth, already thinking of words to spew at her friend tomorrow that aren't exactly appropriate for polite conversation. "Who do you think you are?"
"A baker. And who are you?"
This frustrating man is challenging her, and she knows all too well that she can't resist a challenge. "Fine. Tomorrow."
A pleased smile lights up his face. "Brilliant!"
Ron's kitchen isn't the cleanest, Hermione surmises as she walks in the next morning, taking note of the disorganized shelves with pots and pans toppling over. He's already waiting for her, mixing up what appears to be a rather large ball of dough in a stainless steel bowl with his hands.
His eyes brighten as she approaches. "Okay, master baker. Ready to get started?"
Hermione tries not to take offense at his comment. She doesn't consider herself a master baker, but she does take pride in her accomplishments and it shows.
"What should we begin with?"
Taking his hands out of the doughy mixture, he waggles a finger in her direction. "I'm going to challenge you not to open your recipe book, for starters."
A deep crease forms between Hermione's brows. She likes recipes like she likes structure. If followed correctly, the end result will always be the same. The thought of not knowing what they will create terrifies her.
"In fact," Ron continues, "I don't think we should even worry about any measurements. I usually don't anyway."
Her mouth falls open. "You never measure your ingredients?"
"Never."
"But, baking is a science. How can you possibly guarantee that what you create will turn out?"
"I solemnly swear my baking is just that good." He finishes his witty remark by sticking his tongue out at her.
Hermione holds back her own. In her opinion, he comes off as too lazy to perfect his practice, but she won't say that.
Ron chuckles after viewing the displeasure on her face. "In all seriousness, I don't usually bake the same thing twice. I find it exciting to try something new and not always know how it's gonna turn out. I happen to think sticking to a recipe is a bit boring. We always have the creative freedom to deviate from them, you know."
"I know that." Hermione can't hide the defensiveness in her tone. "I happen to like my sweets straight-forward and reliable."
"Much like yourself, I presume?"
When she doesn't answer, Ron lets out a loud exhale, pushing his hip against the counter as he faces her. "Listen, do you want to spend your life always baking a cake someone else created? Or do you want to experiment outside of your comfort zone and create something new but also potentially amazing?"
He has a valid point. And Hermione wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't rise up to the opportunity she has to explore a different approach to baking.
"So, what are you making right now?" She nods towards the ball of dough now resting on a floured surface.
Beaming, Ron joyfully remarks, "I don't really know! That's the fun part, innit?"
Hermione's mouth twists into a grimace, trying hard not to be too baffled by his words. He is, after all, unlike anyone she's ever met and she's still working out whether or not that's a good thing.
"Come 'round the table." He waves her into position before standing behind her, both arms circling around her body as he places the heel of his palms on the sticky dough. His hot breath on her neck sends a tingle down her spine. "You can start by kneading the dough...put some love in it."
She's captivated by his active demonstration, pressing down hard on the dough and continuously reshaping it into a ball until it's no longer sticky. It's oh so satisfying to see him work with a precision that she didn't know he had, and she cranes her neck to view his mouth set in a firm line as he continues kneading with patient determination.
"Now, let's set it aside for a bit to rise." Ron pushes away the dough covered in parchment paper and swipes his palms together to dust off any excess flour.
"Oh, wait. You've got flour on your nose."
"Where?" Ron rubs the wrong side, making her giggle.
"Just there." Before she fully comprehends what she's doing, her thumb reaches up to swipe the powder from his nose.
Ron catches her hand without taking his eyes off of her face, a look resembling one of sheer desire shining in his irises. She inhales a sharp breath, overwhelmed by the unexpected sensation of having him so close to her. The next few seconds happen as if in slow motion, her mouth parting in anticipation as she watches his eyes dart to her lips.
An unmistakable whimper comes out from somewhere inside of her right as he captures her lips with his own. Hermione clutches at his shirt as she presses her hips into his, on the precipice of releasing a carnal energy that she didn't know she had.
How is it possible to be this turned on over baking?
She vaguely hears the clattering of utensils and feels herself being lifted up onto the surface where they had been working, disregarding all previous tasks. Her legs instinctively wrap around Ron's waist, pulling him close as his mouth moves over hers with a hard intensity, yet so soft and gentle at the same time.
"So, how is today's lesson so far?" Ron mumbles against her lips as she feels his own curving into a smile.
"Could do with more, I gather."
Many essential lessons have been learned, but the most important lesson of all?
Well, for once, Hermione isn't in such a rush to figure out the answer.